


Succulent

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Dendrophilia, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plantbending, Plants, Superpower Sex, Superpowers, Tentacle Sex, The Nucleus Incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1374799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the universe of Eximplode’s wonderful The Nucleus Incident 2.0.  Knowledge of the fic isn't required to enjoy the porn, but certainly to enjoy the plot, what little there is.</p><p>Spy comes to Sniper in an effort to caution him about his seeming embrace of his new powers, and what he feels is surrender to the Australium’s influence on his mind.  Sniper, in an effort to defend and explain himself, gets a little carried away, his powers following his mood more than his words, and soon Spy finds himself a little more amenable to the concept of surrender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Succulent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eximplode](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Eximplode).



> Based on The Nucleus Incident 2.0 (which can be found at thenucleusincident.tumblr.com), and takes place probably somewhere in the middle of Chapter 10 (which, as of this writing, has yet to be published).
> 
> This is a fanwork of a fanwork, and is in no way affiliated with the actual story The Nucleus Incident, and is unrelated to its plot or canon. It's simply my little tribute, as a present to Exi as a thanks for being generally awesome.

“Do you really think I'm that bloody dense?” Sniper growled, rounding on Spy. The rogue's words had bitten into him sharply, making thorns and brambles begin to crawl from between the planks of wood that made up the walls and floor of the bushman's lookout. A place of quiet contemplation and solace, normally Sniper's place to find peace high above the base, above the field, above the desert sands and in fresh air rather than the sweltering confines of his van, the nest had become a sort of prison. It was a corner that the gunman had found himself backed into when Spy had come knocking with disgust on his lips and a soft, red halo pulsing lazily to echo his mood. “You really think I'm that weak-willed?”

Spy chewed on his words just a moment before removing the cigarette between his lips and letting his thoughts spill out over them. “You are saying it, not I. You walk away for a night, think about your troubles, then suddenly have control over these powers? And you suspect nothing amiss about that? Nothing strikes you as wrong that suddenly your dirty laundry is being aired by your own mind? That something is dragging it all up? Nothing, Bushman?”

“And you think it's fine to bottle it all up and let it torture you? For Christ's sake, Spy, I'm tryin' to help you 'ere! If you keep fightin' it tooth and nail, don't face it head-on, it's just goin' to rip you up, drive you mad! You face it, you tame it, and control follows,” Sniper explained, brambles softening as grass began to spread across the floor to illustrate his point. A few young, green vines wound up from the floor and walls, swatting at Spy's arms and legs in a cheeky, teasing display.

Spy regarded the vines coolly, smacking one aside, and blew smoke before putting the spent butt of his cigarette out on a currently not-flowering part of the wall. “Control for whom, exactly? You can use these,” he gestured to the vines, holding a hand out and letting one curl around it, its tip resting in his palm, “flower powers of yours, but what of your mind itself? Who am I truly speaking to, right now? How can you be so sure who is piloting this body of yours at this point? Mundy, or the Australium?”

The vine tightened a little around Spy's hand, curling up his wrist, another doing the same to his ankle, slithering up his leg to hold him in place. Sniper scowled. “You know me.” His teeth bared as he spoke, voice rising as he grew more agitated. “Of all of the blokes on this team, of all of us, you really think that _I_ would just just give up like that? Me, just handin' over my independence?” Another of the vines began to loop around Spy's waist, loosely, wrapping his belly and hips.

Spy looked down at the vine, at the one around his leg and the other slithering up his arm, and smirked. The assassin always claimed not to have a lot of emotions, citing some comparison about bludgeoning spouses to death, and insisting he was a man primarily of standards. And yet, here he was, incensed, excited, and gathering Spy into his arms in an alarmingly figurative sense, much to the rogue's amusement. “I seem to recall your being quite susceptible to suggestion. Certainly, you were the last time you found yourself lying naked beneath me, were you not, mon cher?”

Sniper's cheeks flushed, the taller man reeling back with a frown. Behind him, along the wall and floor, small flowers began to bloom in shades of pink and purple. Brambles wilted away, thorns receding as wide, green leaves and vines began sprouting. “That,” Sniper countered with a stutter, his gaze flicking away from Spy as he ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, “that doesn't count.”

“Oh, it doesn't?” Spy practically purred, turning on the charm and catching Sniper's eye, his lips beginning to curl away into a cheshire smile. He tried to ignore it as more vines began to wrap around his legs, pawing at his thighs. He found it much harder to ignore as the vine about his waist started sinking lower, trailing down his abdomen. “Which time didn't count, then? So I can be sure of the score, then.”

“It's not the same. Gettin' me to do—,” Sniper set his jaw a moment, almost embarrassed to admit aloud the things they'd done. Memories flooded his mind of hot desert nights, two naked, sweaty bodies rocking together on the floor of the very nest in which they now stood, animal grunting and moans filling the dry air.

That vine crept lower, undulating against Spy, rubbing against his crotch with surprising deftness.

“Gettin' me to fuck around with you, it's different from the Australium, and you know it.”

“I do not know,” Spy countered, leaning into the vine's touch and finding himself responding, a soft sigh seeping through his nostrils. “It has been my experience that getting into your head and your pants are similarly simplistic endeavours.” Another vine began to curl around his chest and ribs, brushing at his neck and shoulder, sending a shiver through him. “After all, mon cher, I have accomplished both more than enough times to know.” To prove his point, Spy brought a hand to rest against the vine at his groin, arching into its touch with a light gasp.

He was right, and he had done it again. Handily worming his way into Sniper's libido, Spy had him playing into his hands without even realizing it. His powers, however, were all too eager to betray him. Sniper sank away, his vines mirroring the motion, beginning to slide off of the smug Frenchman before him.

“I did not tell you to stop, Bushman,” Spy teased, leaning forward a bit and snatching hold of the cheeky vine that had begun to leave him. It was then that Sniper noticed the glow surrounding him had shifted. No longer was it a dull, throbbing red, but a steadily rising pink, growing brighter and clearer as the rogue leered at him.

“Looks like my powers aren't the only ones sendin' a clear signal, hey?” Sniper grinned, his vines receding away, save the one that had been molesting Spy, which began to work its way under the rogue's belt and into his trousers.

Spy hissed in a breath as the smooth, green thing began to curl against his hot flesh, wrapping loosely around him as he began to harden, and shot Sniper a meaningful, questioning look. Was this continuing in this direction? When he saw the gunman lick his lips, eyeing him up like a fresh kill, he knew his answer. He quickly busied his hands with his buttons, opening his jacket and waistcoat, shedding both to drop on one of the crates Sniper often used as a table in his cozy roost. A vine began to lift his shirt, coiling around his bare belly and sliding up his chest to rub inexpertly against a nipple. The sheer amount of control Sniper demonstrated impressed Spy, expecting clumsy lashing and prodding, not the fine manipulation of the plants against his body, the gentle squeezing of his cock. At what cost this control came at remained to be seen, but for now, he would enjoy it.

Nimble fingers worked buttons open, and Spy shed his shirt, more vines converging on him to caress his back, sides, chest, and belly. The tendrils were smooth and slightly waxy, cool to the touch with ample, yet not altogether uncomfortable, friction. They tugged at his skin with the slight insistence of a calloused hand, making heat rise at the familiar, completely unfamiliar touches wherever they roamed. When his belt came loose, fly undone and pants shimmied down his hips to slide down his legs, even more came to play, wrapping around his thighs, his knees, his ankles, feeling him and holding him and tugging at him even as he kicked off his shoes and socks. Small, slim tendrils split off from the larger vines, curling up his inner thighs, reaching out to tease. Naked, save his mask, Spy shed his gloves and gripped the vines converging on his arms and wrists, shivering at the feeling of being wrapped and touched by the multitude of plant tendrils groping at his warm flesh. The vine encircling his cock began to lightly tug, earning a soft sound from the back of his throat as it pulled at his foreskin, moving it up and down his length in its firm grip, sending a swells of heat rolling through him. “Bushman...”

“You want it?” Sniper asked, his eyes roaming Spy's body in time with his plants, lilies, poppies, and canterbury bells blooming around his feet, clematis and honeysuckle climbing the walls and window sills around him in vivid colours illuminated by Spy's pink glow. He knelt down and tugged a small toolbox from behind one of the crates that functioned as makeshift furniture in the small space. It was a box Spy knew well, brought out during other times they'd had to settle their differences with the press of skin to skin, with teeth and tongues and lurid growling. He opened it, withdrawing a bottle of petroleum jelly, holding it up to illustrate his intent.

“Yes,” Spy breathed, his head tilting back as a vine squirmed down his hip, threading between his thighs to rub against his balls while the tip probed between his cheeks.

Sniper opened the bottle, scooping up a healthy dollop of the thick, slippery substance, and summoned a vine over to him, taking hold of it in one hand and spreading the petroleum jelly over its tip and length before releasing it to go sneak over to Spy. He lifted his hand, feeling the rise, the motion in his mind as the vines around Spy's legs tightened and lifted him, those around his torso bracing him as he was tugged into a seated position in the air, his weight supported entirely.

Spy yelped in surprise, doubly so when his knees were tugged away from one another, exposing him to Sniper as that slippery vine slithered upward to press against his entrance. He grit his teeth as it began to push in, breath hissing between them at the strange, wonderful intrusion and the complete loss of control.

It wasn't thick, by any means. Perhaps the size of one of Sniper's fingers, or his thumb, but slipping into him, greased up and wriggling, Spy felt as though it filled him entirely. The hot burn of his ass stretching open brought unease to his belly, quickly fading as it began to pet at his insides, spreading the jelly about and getting a feel for its surroundings. Sniper walked up alongside Spy to watch, to see him flush and gasp as the vine worked its way inside, slowly, easing him open and teasing at him. It was like a living thing, worming its way into him, caressing and poking at the walls within him with an almost curious playfulness, and he was sure Sniper was having far too much fun with this. An ignoble grunt barked out of him as the vine found his postate and began to harass it with curling nudges.

The rosy glow surrounding him began to grow brighter, making the gunman squint each time it breached the edges of his sunglasses. The vines around his arms tugged them up over his head, looping together at his wrists to bind them tight, stretching his shoulders to just the edge of discomfort. He was powerless against the tendrils that held him, but all the same, didn't even try to fight, happy to surrender to the slick stretch of that vine opening him up, and the second that joined it once prepared by Sniper.

“Mon dieu,” Spy whispered, his brow furrowed, his jaw set. The vines inside him twined together and apart, pushing outward to stretch him, testing the muscles that tried to hold him closed, only to wrap around each other again and quest deeper before receding to repeat the process again. It was dizzying, yet altogether amazing. Sensations entirely alien, entirely scandalous and perverse, rippled through his insides and made his spine feel like gelatin. Heat welled in him, his insides twisting in time with the vines, a pressure that began to build in his gut and thrum through his pelvic floor. Finally, another vine joined them, and the three crawled about, almost exploring.

Sniper sucked in a breath through his teeth, watching Spy's face as it screwed up and flushed red amidst his pink glow. He was gorgeous like this, completely without affect and aires, given over completely to his body and the gloriously weird things happening to it. It was painfully hot, and he adjusted himself in his pants as the pressure of his erection grew uncomfortable. “It's all about control. You've got to find what's deep inside you, find your strength, y'see,” the assassin teased, resuming his attempt at a lecture as his hand caressed Spy's ass cheek.

The rogue would've shot him a withering look if he could properly control the muscles of his face any longer. Instead, he was rewarded with a slightly more exasperated-sounding groan than the others issuing from his throat, and chuckled in reply.

“Though I suppose what's deep inside you right now ain't gonna help you control your little light show, is it?” That one earned an audible grunt of annoyance from Spy, and his name growled low between gasps. Leave it to the bushman to tease him when he was getting fucked by a bunch of plants. “Right, let's see 'ow you 'andle this,” Sniper growled, his hands gripping Spy's ass and spreading him as the vines began to recoil, curling down to thrust back up, almost leaving the rogue only to bury themselves in him again, pistoning in uneven time.

Spy bucked, shaking in his bonds, wriggling against the vines that held him as the assault began. It was at once strange and fantastic, to be so full, to be fucked in such a rhythm. It drove cries from him, pink hues exploding from him in flood-light volumes as he quivered, sparks shooting up his spine as his insides were pummeled by the plunging plants. “Merde!”

“That's right,” Sniper growled, giving him a squeeze. Spy could take it. He would take it, and if he wasn't feeling too self-conscious, would ask, no, demand more. In the meantime, he groaned his approval, hanging there in the air, at his mercy, seated on a throne of vines. A throne of Sniper's making. Watching the delicate curve of the rogue's back as his body shook, Sniper found himself soon unable to resist joining in.

Spy let out a soft whine as the vines slipped out of him, leaving him empty and wanting, tingling in their absence. Their sudden loss left him empty, and he felt amost sick for the abrupt removal. He looked to Sniper to ask why, but found himself unable to do more than yelp in surprise as the vines hefted his haunches up, turning him heels over head, to hang completely upside down with his legs in the air above him, toes pointing to the ceiling. His arms were tugged behind his back, his hips and shoulders wrapped tight to support him. Blood began to rush to his head, but he didn't especially care. Not with Sniper undoing his fly and pulling his cock out of his pants, immediately in front of his face.

“Now, then, I think you know what to do.”

Spy licked his lips and wrapped them around the crown of Sniper's cock, tongue setting to work on his hot flesh right away. In response, the three slick vines reached up and plunged back into Spy, wrapping together and working in unison to penetrate him with vigor, thrusting in and against his prostate and stretching him wide with each lashing wriggle. The vine at his cock began to tug faster, less leisurely, meeting the pace of its brothers inside of Spy.

His arms ached, held fast behind his back with his thumbs pressing against the crest of his ass, wrists together and a lattice of vines cris-crossing between his arms, holding them straight. His shoulders burned, elbows stiff as any attempts at wriggling free produced nothing. He was held fast by the same vines that pleasured him, that roamed his skin and pet at him, that explored his insides excitedly. He found a mild tinge of panic begin to rise in him, trapped and unable to escape on his own terms should he want, completely at Sniper's mercy, and the mercy of the strange plants he was assaulting him with. It made his heart race, and heat bloom anew between his thighs, moisture pricking at the corners of his eyes as he let that panic work up into a simmering terror and seep into his muscles and make him tense up and clench, only heightening the beautiful, vicious thrusts of the vines inside him. He was being controlled; he had surrendered, and it felt so sickeningly good to do so.

Vines pet and caressed the rogue's flesh, even as his tongue did the same to Sniper's, taking him deeper into his mouth and relishing it as his hand fisted in the fabric of his mask. He tasted of sweat and heat, musky yet so very appealing. Salt tinged the edges of his flavour, and as he pushed deeper, grazing over his tongue and nudging his way into Spy's throat, the rogue found his nose resting against Sniper's balls, able to inhale his scent and let his eyes roll back. He relaxed, welcoming him into his throat as the bushman began to thrust in shallow bursts, trying not to choke him but unable to handle the wet, insistent heat of Spy's mouth.

Spy moaned around Sniper's length to the best of his ability, the cock in his throat restricting his air and reducing him to chesty warbles that had no place to exit, dying in his throat in undignified croaks. He didn't care. Neither of them did. Not when his throat was rippling around Sniper, when that firm heat was pressing into him and rutting against his tongue.

Spit dripped down Sniper's balls, leaking from Spy's lips with each buck of his hips, dragging it out and not allowing him to properly swallow, just to flounder as the bushman fucked his face. It was so hot, searing through Sniper, building pressure in his gut even as the awful, choked sounds the rogue gagged out sent a half-fulfilled shudder coursing through the bushman's shoulders and down his spine. Spy was spread out before his eyes, in front of his face as the vines drove into him, pulling and rubbing and thrusting all over, swarming over his body like Sniper's hands longed to. He wouldn't allow himself the pleasure. Somewhere in his lust-addled mind, he was proving a point about his powers, about his control. With Spy's tongue rolling against his cock, however, he couldn't be sure exactly what it was anymore, and instead hung on to his mask and watched. He watched as the vines filled him, feeling their movement, the rhythm and the unison they worked in as they quested deep inside him, as they writhed about his flesh and molested him thoroughly.

The vines inside of Spy sped faster and faster, pounding into him with force and making his whole body rock with the motions, Sniper's hand on his mask trying to help still him as he thrust. Each jerk of the bushman's hips were echoed by a deep, hard plunge of the vines, an eager tug of the one around his cock. They worked in concert, bound together by Sniper's libido.

Spy's glow held steady, near-blinding in its brilliance, making Sniper thankful he wore sunglasses. He closed his eyes and held on for dear life, letting himself feel the movement of the vines, their place in space and how Spy related to that. He could feel the plants all around reacting, flowers blooming, grass spreading to the four corners of the room. Vines and branches curled about the walls and ceiling, creeping plants spreading as cacti and aloe began to bubble up and spread out along the windowsills, blooming in broad, thin-petaled flowers. Everything was awake and alive and with their blossoms the plants showed their appreciation for their tryst by showing off their own reproductive organs in a vibrant display of colour. Hues of red, blue, pink, purple, white, and yellow spread out over every available surface, rising with the tide of Sniper and Spy's fevered fucking, their voices, their hungry, animal grunts of ardor filling the small room.

It was Spy who came first, legs going stock still, dragging the vines holding them with, his back arching away and tugging Sniper from his throat to just inside his lips as he cried out around him, paroxysms restrained by the plants keeping him aloft even as he painted the grass below with his own seed, a few stray drops catching him on the underside of his chin as they fell past. The light that filled the room blinded Sniper behind his eyelids and glasses, making spots streak across his darkened vision.

The bushman grabbed hold of Spy's head, bucking into his mouth, the vibrations of his orgasmic cry spurring him onto the final stretch. He fucked his lips with verve, a growl rolling out of his throat at completion, filling his teammate's mouth with his release. The vegetation, now coating ceiling, walls and floor in equal measure, exploded in shrubbery, leaves and petals, fruits rippling up out of the green like waves, speckling the room with berries and pomes, drupes and succulents. Melons and gourds burst from the floor, growing without notice. With a rough groan of movement and expansion, life flourished through the roost at the moment of Sniper's climax. Reluctantly, he pulled out of Spy's mouth, allowing him to swallow.

Vines slowly, carefully lowered Spy to the grassy floor, receding away into the vegetation covering every available surface like the arms of some great monster slinking back beneath the waves. He lay there, panting, insensate, the taste of Sniper still on his tongue even after he'd swallowed. His arms flopped out to his sides, aching and stiff. His eyes refused to focus, and his ass was so, so blissfully sore. The glow that surrounded him had died down to a bare flicker, a faint outline of his body, prone in the grass and flowers. It was still a warm shade of pink.

Sniper collapsed against a nearby mossy crate, panting for breath. He tucked himself back into his pants and looked to Spy, who seemed barely conscious.

“Bushman,” Spy whispered, almost afraid to break the near-silence that had fallen, the night air filled only with the sounds of their breathing.

“Yeh?”

“How--” Spy's thought was interrupted by a banging against the hatch of Sniper's nest, and both men jumped, glaring over at the area where it normally was, now covered in grass, vines, and gourds. A second bang, a set of three sharp taps, and both realized it was knocking. A set of knuckles rapping against the old, dry wood.

“Who's there?” Sniper asked, trying to force his voice back into the familiar grumpiness one would expect of a loner disturbed in his being alone. The breathless edge of it did little to disguise him.

“Yo, Snipes, it's me,” came Scout's voice from the other side, slightly muffled through the wood and vegetation. “Is Spy in there with you? Is everything okay?”

Spy looked to Sniper and shook his head, like he was dodging a phone call. 'Tell him I'm not here,' his eyes said.

“Yeh, Spook's up 'ere,” Sniper said with a smirk in the rogue's general direction, ignoring the pointed glare coming back his way. “Everything's fine, why? What's wrong?”

“Well we been seein' a whole bunch 'a lights flickerin' an' getting' stronger from 'ere, an' I figured I'd check it out. 'Specially once it got real bright. We were gettin' worried there was a fight, or somethin' had happened to you guys,” Scout explained. “Plus, the light was pink, so we weren't even sure if that was Spy.”

“Because it was pink?”

“Well, we never seen 'im glow that colour, so...”

“Alright, mate. I want you to think about that for a tic, yeh? Me an' Spy are up 'ere, _alone_ , in the middle of the night, an' 'e's been glowin' a colour 'e never 'as in front of the team, with increasin' brightness until it flashes out across the desert. What, possibly, could be happening up 'ere to make something like that happen?”

Scout was silent for a moment, and Spy's hand found its way to his face, sloppily and with great effort, so that he could cover it in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. Was the boy really that dense?

“Wait.”

“Yeh?”

“Wait you don't mean...?”

“Yeh?”

“Wh—aw jeez, Snipes, are you serious? You guys were—aw jeez!” Scout groused, the puzzle pieces locking together. “So pink means—aw, aw man!” He was not having an easy time with the revelation.

“So yeah you wanna give us some space, mate? The afterglow ain't nearly as bright a show but I'd still like to enjoy it in peace, yeh?” Sniper teased, shooting a shit-eating grin to Spy who sighed and shook his head.

“Yeah I'm—I'm outta here, man. See you at breakfast, jeez!” Scout stammered, retreating quickly into the night and into the relative safety of the base, away from the coworkers he'd just caught having sex.

“The whole base is going to know in a matter of minutes,” Spy grumbled, reaching for his coat. He needed a cigarette.

“Pretty sure the whole base knew already and Scout's just daft.” Sniper shrugged, helping Spy in his endeavour as he watched his limp, near-boneless arms fumbling about. He reached into the man's coat, tugging his cigarette case free and liberating one for himself before handing it over. “Wouldn't be a problem if you'd just work with it and learn to use your powers, though.”

Spy lit his cigarette using his fingers and scowled, taking a long drag. “One more word out of you and I will slice you in half to count the rings, you freakish tree-man.”

“Yeh, you're welcome, luv.”


End file.
